Tears of a queen

Hello good people of earth. Y’all, I think there is something wrong with me. Yes, we all know something ain’t right with me, but I honestly think there is something seriously wrong with me. I find that I keep getting emotional, like all of the time. For the strangest reasons, I tear up.

I grew up hearing things like “Boys don’t cry” and “If you don’t stop cryin’, I’ll give you something to cry about!” I learned to push those feelings down. If I was going to get upset and cry about something, I would literally swallow it until the lump in my throat actually, physically hurt.

This is a horrible example of what I mean, but when I was a kid — like 7 or 8 — and we would be in a store, well, this particular memory took place in a store called M.E. Moses. My little sister would ask my mom for something — a toy, candy, whatever — and if she didn’t get it, she would throw a fit. We were broke as hell, and I knew we couldn’t afford a lot of extras. But my mom would inevitably cave in and angrily tell my sister to get the fucking toy.

My sister, who by the way was three years younger than me, would happily snatch up the toy or whatever it was and be oblivious to the fact that now our mom was pissed off. Or she just didn’t care.

Then my mom would turn to me with that look that a mother can give you that makes you shiver and yell at me to get me something. I would almost always say that I was okay, and I didn’t need anything.

But in my head, I wanted something, too. I just didn’t want my mother to be upset, so I pushed down that emotion and would get that painful lump in my throat. I acted unfazed by the situation, but inside I wanted to cry or scream or kick something.

What’s funny to me now, as I am writing this, is the way I made myself feel better in those and so many other similar situations was that I would shoot them the middle finger — either behind my back or behind a wall, a door or anything that would cover my hand. I held that middle finger up.

If my mom, dad, teacher or anybody made me feel some kinda way, my silent “fuck you” made me feel a wee bit better.

Another funny thing is that now I give people that same look that my mother used to give me. I know it is the same look because I have literally seen people flinch when I throw an angry glare, and I low-key love that.

To give you an example of something that has made me emotional, I will share just a few of the times I have teared up or full-on cried. Some are absolutely warranted while others seem ridiculous.

I love the show The Amazing Race. This season there are some very likable teams. My favorite team is Rob and Corey.

Rob is deaf and is a coach at the California School for the Deaf. His gorgeous son Corey is not deaf, but they do most of their communicating through American Sign Language. So far, they have had ups and downs but always have a great uplifting attitude.

A few episodes back, they struggled with one of the challenges. In the interview with Rob, he said that he has to stay positive no matter what, because it’s important for his football players at home and for his son to see that that you never give up. (I am bawling right now thinking of it.)

Something about what he was saying and the beautiful relationship he has with his son hit me so hard. I was overwrought with emotion. I boo-hoo’d an embarrassing amount during that episode.

I’m sure this could all be psychoanalyzed to pieces about my own daddy issues or pent-up anger and stress, but ain’t nobody got time for dat.

The next day, I am sitting at the Nissan dealership getting my oil changed, and I started to tear up because their fucking coffee/expresso machine wasn’t working. I am not even a big coffee drinker! Then when a woman sitting across from me asks if I’m okay, I act like I am scrolling on my phone and say, “Damn TikTok videos!” She nods her head and says, “I know, right?!”

Speaking of scrolling: I don’t know what my phone’s algorithm says about me, but it basically consists of dogs being helped in some way, nearly naked thick dudes doing something stupid, make-up tutorials, horribly offensive jokes, cooking demos and animals with voiceovers talking smack.

Then there are the videos of military homecomings, proposals, adults or toddlers hearing for the first time, someone getting the glasses that let a color-blind person see all the colors and — my personal favorite — stepdads being asked to adopt the child they have helped raise. Any one of these videos gets me in my heart and, depending on where I am at the time, that lump in my throat.

The thing that gets me very emotional every single day right now is my little old man Bentley. He is our 17-year-old Maltese pup I found in front of a pharmacy in Oak Cliff about nine years ago. I know his exact age because he was chipped, and his original owner just didn’t want him anymore (stupid, accessory-loving bitch).

Well, he has started having these episodes where he passes out. At first, we thought they were seizures, but the vet thinks they are heart related.

It’s like he stands up too fast and just falls the fuck out. He goes dark for about 30 seconds, pisses himself then comes to. The first time it happened we thought we had lost him.

The medication the vet put him on seems to help, but they haven’t stopped completely. It happens at least once a day. So we make sure to enjoy him as much as possible while we can. I guess we should do that with everyone because ya just never know.

I cried at the vet’s office. I cried in the back yard in between yelling at him to “Get away from that poop, ya little weirdo!”

I know the heartbreak is coming, and it is the worst part of being a doggie daddy. But the love they give far outweighs not having them in our lives. He is the sweetest, most affectionate dirty little dog I have ever had the pleasure of loving.

Those tears, those breakdowns I understand. It’s the bullshit of being a crybaby when I’m watching Americas Funniest Home Videos, and something is funny, and I tear up with some misplaced emotion that I do not get. Maybe it is just part of getting older. Maybe it is because I have stuff going on in my life that is beyond my control, and, since I am a control freak, it is killing me.

Maybe I need to just listen to some Annie Lennox and allow myself to full on fucking ugly cry. Maybe I just need a Snickers.

I guess life ain’t always easy, and I need to just feel my feels — no matter where they come from. I need to allow myself to let go of shit from my past that still bothers me.

Sorry if all of this comes across as whiney or weird, but this is cheaper than therapy, and I feel like it has helped. So thanks for reading this. And remember to always love more, bitch less and cry if you want to. XOXO, Cassie Nova